


Conflicting Loyalties || The Hobbit

by demeteroh



Category: The Hobbit
Genre: A hobbit goes with them, Also on Tumblr, And angst, How original of me, Slow Burn, also maybe romance, and Quotev, at least when i decide who with, but theres a tWIST, demeterofmiddleeaeth, demeteroh, itll probably be pinning, that i wont reveal, yet - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2018-10-16
Packaged: 2019-07-27 16:42:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16223147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/demeteroh/pseuds/demeteroh
Summary: Mero Took used to be a respectable hobbit, with polite manners and a sunny disposition. That is until she is faced with a group of thirteen dwarves, her cousin Bilbo Baggins, and the old wizard she remembered from her childhood. And what happens when she finds out a secret about her mother? And how will that affect the loyalties she has?





	1. Gandalf and his Fireworks

**Author's Note:**

> English is not my first language, so sorry for mistake. This is also posted on both my tumblr and quotev (demeteroh and demeterofmiddleeaeth). Also this chapter is quite short, but that’s because of tumblr so I might end up putting two tumblr chapters to one on here idk. ENJOY

Had someone told Mero Took just a few weeks ago that her cousin Bilbo Baggins would get himself wrapped up in heinous affairs such as dragons and dwarves, she would have surely told them that they were crazy. They couldn’t be talking about her Bilbo, of Bag End. Sweet, sweet Bilbo who tended his garden and always made sure she had extra helpings for every meal. The little Hobbit didn’t have the capacity to become tangled in such things.

Certainly, anyone that could suggest the respectable master of Bag End would go on an adventure, of all things, was mad. That’s how she would have described them before it happened, and even now that it was over she would call everyone involved mad - even herself. Dragons, what was she thinking?

Mero should have known something odd was going to happen when she walked home that afternoon over a year ago and saw a big person with a grey beard standing outside the front garden. Bilbo was there too, looking mighty uncomfortable. The hobbit who had taken her in was positively flustered by the time she interrupted whatever it was they were talking about.

“Good morning, Bilbo,” she said brightly, a basket resting in the elbow of her arm. “Some fresh cakes, from Rosa.”

“Oh, good morning, Meroderada,” Bilbo said, turning his attention away from the big person. The big person regarded Mero with a quiet curiosity like he was waiting for her to explain her entire life story. For a moment she had the urge to do so. 

Setting the basket down on the steps next to her elder cousin, Mero smiled politely at the big person. “I am Mero Took, a pleasure to meet you, sir.”

“A Took, really?” the man said, staring at her beneath his bushy eyebrows. He seemed shocked for a moment, before playing it off with a smile. “It is a pleasure to meet me, yes, but it is not the first time you have.”

“Oh?” Mero said, turning to Bilbo for confirmation. 

“This is Gandalf,” Bilbo said as an explanation, before a barrage of memories flooded back to her. 

“Mister Gandalf with his fireworks and his stories of adventure? Why you’ve been gone for quite some time, sir,” Mero said, suddenly very excited to be in Gandalf’s presence. “I used to give my father a heart attack when he saw me pretending to fight wolves in our garden. Cut the head off of all the roses, I did. A shame really, but then Aunt Belladonna sewed them into a hat for me so it was all okay again.

“But there is no party now, Mister Gandalf, yet I seem to remember you only showed up when there was one,” she continued, much to the displeasure of Bilbo, whom just wanted the wizard to leave his property. “So, if it is not too rude to ask, and I imagine you shan’t mind - though Bilbo might - what is it that you are doing here?”

Gandalf smiled like he knew something she didn’t, which wasn’t necessarily untrue. “I was having a conversation with your cousin here - which reminds me.”

Gandalf turned back to Bilbo, his hands on his staff. “Well, that’s decided,” he said, pointing at Bilbo. Mero’s eyes widened in shock ad the wizard’s voice got slightly louder and more authoritative.

“It’ll be very good for you,” he said. “And most amusing for me. I shall inform the others.”

This greatly agitated Bilbo. “Inform the ot- what, no, no, no, wait -“ grabbing Mero’s arm, Bilbo pulled her up the steps to the front door with him. As quickly as she could, Mero grabbed the basket and gave her cousin a confused look. “We do not any adventures here, thank you. Not today - not - I suggest you try over the hill or across the water.”

He then gestured for Gandalf to leave, surprising Mero, and causing the wizard to frown.

“Good morning,” he said, walking inside the house with a huff. Mero expected she should follow him, so with a wave to Gandalf, she reopened the door.

“Do come to tea, dear Gandalf,” she said before entering. “Tomorrow perhaps, at four, if you are free. Or any time you like, really, I’m sure Bilbo won’t mind. He does love visitors, after all.”

Mero closed the door behind her, leaving Gandalf to smile after the young Took. Mero set her basket down on the side table to take her coat off, but she was barely halfway through before Bilbo came hurtling back towards the door.

“Lock it, lock it, quickly,” he said to himself, bolting the door closed. After doing so, he walked quickly back towards one of his pantries, the basket on his arm. “A cake, Mero?”

“Yes, if you don’t mind,” she said, preparing to follow him when she heard a strange scraping noise coming from the door. Bending down, it sounded like a stick scratching into the surface of the door. Frowning, Mero made her way to the window, only to be scared backwards when Gandalf appeared staring at her. The old wizard winked before walking away, whistling a tune as he went.

Mero decided she best leave whatever it was Bilbo and Gandalf had talked about to them. It would only end in herself getting confused, she was sure, and Bilbo knew how to handle himself. No trouble would come to the hobbit as long as he lived, that much she was sure of.


	2. Tea for More Than Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mero finally meets some dwarves!! Check out my Tumblr - demeteroh where I will post when I am updating

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely readers. This chapter is substantially longer than the other one (double the length, I think), but it was always the plan for the chapters to be longer than the first one. I have a question for you all, that I will repeat every now and again until I have made my decision -
> 
> Do you want this to have romance in it between Mero and another character (or Bilbo and another character, but in the background)? If yes, please let me know who if you have a preference. I think it might be best to limit it to the company, though perhaps one of the more prominent elves could be an option. Thank you, I hope you are enjoying it.
> 
> -Demeter.

It wasn’t until the next day that Mero thought to tell Bilbo of the guest that would be joining them. It took a moment for the information to process, but once it did Bilbo all but yelled. “You invited him to tea?”

The invitation had entirely slipped Mero’s mind (as things so often did) until she saw Bilbo preparing two fish teas. She had, quite offhandedly she liked to think, mentioned that they would need more food than that to feed their guest. As expected, Bilbo was less than pleased to hear the news. 

“Why - oh goodness I think I need to sit down, I’m feeling quite faint.”

”I shan’t suppose it’s out of excitement?” Mero said hopefully, guiding her cousin over to his chair in the sitting room. He was shaking beneath her hands. “By the hair on my toes, the way you are acting makes it seem as if that dear old wizard had done something unspeakable - he didn’t take your smokepipe, did he?”

”No, no, thankfully,” Bilbo said, leaning back on his chair and fanning his face. He seemed even more flustered now than he had the previous day, which was no small feat. Mero, concerned for the hobbit’s health, pressed the back of her hand to his forehead. Bilbo waved her away. 

“Are you quite well, Bilbo?” Asked Mero, a frown on her face. Bilbo leant back in his chair with closed eyes, attempting to collect himself before he worried Mero. It was too late on his part, for Mero was already regretting extending the dinner invitation. “Did I make a mistake in inviting Gandalf around?”

Sighing, Bilbo rose from his chair and put his hand on Mero’s shoulder. He had to reach up because the girl was substantially taller than him (as many Tooks were), but it comforted her nevertheless. “Of course not, Meroderada. I should have done so myself, yet my manners completely escaped me. All of the talk about ad - well, never you mind what Gandalf was babbling on about. I am happy to say I managed to avoid quite a bit of tomfoolery yesterday. I can’t imagine that he should bring it up again, certainly not in your company.”

A burst of curiosity spiked inside Mero along with a childish wish to object. As much as she tried to tell herself that she wasn’t interested in knowing what had made Bilbo so unsettled, she couldn’t deny that she was slightly curious. Slightly more than curious, one might say, had they seen what she fantasized Gandalf was speaking of - elven lords, terrifying monsters, and heroic acts, to name but a few. Before she could let slip that she desperately wanted to know, she herded Bilbo back into the kitchen, noting that the time was nearing four.

“Set the table, dear Bilbo, I will quickly scrap something together for myself, and Gandalf can have my fish dinner,” Mero said, talking quickly. “I do hope he likes fish, though I can’t see why he wouldn’t, being as well travelled as he is. Though, Old Took said he once met a traveller who wouldn’t eat anything that was once living. Curious, don’t you think?”

Before Bilbo could reply, a harsh knock sounded from the hallway. Mero paused in her food preparation, turning towards the door with anticipation. Perhaps she could manage to get Gandalf to talk of his travels without Bilbo intervening to say it all sounded dangerous. A good cake ought to distract the hobbit enough. 

“I’ll get it, you continue,” Bilbo said, scurrying out of the kitchen and towards the door. Mero, too distracted now to continue preparing food, quickly put an extra plate and some bread on the table. Wiping her hands on her dress, she glanced at the clock to see that Gandalf had arrived at exactly four o'clock, which ought to have please Bilbo. Several moments passed and Gandalf had yet to join her in the dining room, so she went to investigate. 

In the hallway, she saw Bilbo standing stock still. She couldn't see Gandalf behind the coat rack blocking her view of the outside, save for the night sky. This should have been the first indication to her that it was not the wizard at the door, indeed that it was someone quite dissimilar. 

"Why do you stand here so, Bilbo Baggins, as if a spell has befallen you?" Mero said, walking up to stand next to her beloved cousin, still not noticing that their guest was not at all the one they had been expecting. It was Mero's way to notice everything and yet nothing if her mind was sufficiently occupied, as it happened to be at that very moment. "What on Middle-earth is that in your arms? A sword? I can't imagine what our guest must be thinking seeing you carrying around a - why you're not Gandalf."

The man (Mero thought it must be a man, yet he looked like no male she had ever seen before) chuckled or made a noise that resembled a chuckle. It could well have been a hairball, but Mero was inclined to think better of people. Most of his hair seemed to be concentrated around his chin area, stretching up to his ears but not much farther, leaving a clean bald spot with a tattoo on it. Although she had never met one, it was clear that this man with his tattoos and beard was most certainly not a hobbit, but a dwarf.

"By Elbereth and Lúthien the fair, you're a dwarf, aren't you?" Mero couldn't help but stare as she pulled Bilbo out of the way. The dwarf seemed quite content to walk into their home though she had not invited him to, yet she was too shocked to comment on it. Bilbo was in a similar state as her, but at the dwarves words, he snapped out of it.

"Aye, I am, lassie," the dwarf said, in an accent entirely new to the young hobbit girl. "You're husband here had much the same reaction."

"Excuse me," Bilbo said, pilling what Mero now assumed to be the dwarves belongings by the front door. "Firstly, this is not my wife-"

"A pleasure, Mister Dwarf. I am called Mero-"

"-derada. My cousin Meroderada,' Bilbo said, a hint of protectiveness in his voice. The courage that Bilbo had managed to build up to speak strongly to the dwarf suddenly disappeared when he started ravenously eating one of the fish dinners. "Oh, oh my."

That was how Mero would have described it as well, the way the dwarf was using his hands to tear apart the fish and stuff it into his mouth. With wide eyes, Mero watched, until the dwarf noticed her staring. Bilbo had long since moved to sit at the table, most likely feeling faint for the second time that afternoon. It was rare times like these that Mero's Took side shone much brighter than the Baggins side she had partially been brought up with.

"Dwalin," the dwarf mumbled through a mouthful of bread. It took Mero a moment to realise he was saying something, and only a moment later did she come to the conclusion that she had no idea what he was saying. She wagered she wouldn't have had much more luck without food in his mouth.

"I'm sorry?" she said, looking for him to repeat himself. He paused with another chunk of bread just in front of his mouth to fix her with his gaze again.

"My name. Dwalin, after my grandfather, Falin," Dwalin said, his gruff voice making Mero have to pay extra attention. "Your cousin said your name was Merida?"

"Meroderada," Mero corrected, before quickly adding, "though most call me Mero. Bilbo just tries to - well, I'm not entirely sure why he uses my full name. He is the only one. You are welcome to call me either."

"There was no mention made of a young lady hobbit." Dwalin raised a tankard to his lips, Mero following his every move.

"Who would have mentioned it?" She asked, although by now she was beginning to suspect that Gandalf, that sneaky old wizard, had something to do with it. He had said he was going to inform the others. 

Dwalin regarded her with what could only be described as suspicion. He seemingly didn't find what he had been looking for, because he grunted and chewed quickly in order to answer her. "The same old man who told us about this place, and your cousin Bilbo -"

"The door!" Bilbo squeaked loudly, having heard the knock quite clearly. "Excuse me."

Mero suspected it to be Gandalf this time, ready to explain exactly what was going on. However, Dwalin seemed to think differently.

"That should be one of the others," he said. "My money's on Balin."

And he was correct, and Mero would have lost her money if they had actually put a bet on it, because a white-haired dwarf walked into the dining room, talking over his shoulder to Bilbo. Dwalin greeted Balin (his brother, perhaps, both of them named after grandfather Falin) in a peculiar way that made Mero jump - they smashed their heads together violently. Shocked, Mero decided it was best not to ask for if that was how they treated friends she was wary to see how they treated those they disliked. 

"Balin this is Merida, Merida this is my brother, Balin," Dwalin introduced you both as Bilbo reappeared with another tray of cakes. 

"Its Mero, actually," Mero corrected again, yet she had a feeling Dwalin was not going to remember. "A pleasure, Mister Balin."

"At your service, Miss Mero," Balin said, bowing to her. "They didn't tell us that one of our burglars was a lady."

"Burglar?" Mero questioned with interest, at the same time Bilbo said the word with horror. The doorbell rang again before either Balin or Dwalin could explain anything to the hobbits. This time, Mero made sure Bilbo was safely in a seat and answered the door herself because she was certain it was not Gandalf like he was expecting.

Opening the door she was met with the smiling faces of two more dwarves, around her height. One had golden hair that blended into his golden beard, the other dark hair and a little beard, that he made up for with a large grin.

"Mr Boggins," he exclaimed, bowing with the other dwarf. 

"Fili, at your service," the blonde one said, followed by the dark-haired one saying "and Kili."

"You aren't Mr Boggins," Kili said upon hopping inside the home. "You're a woman."

"Mero Took, at your service, dear dwarves," Mero said, remembering her manners, even if she was panicking slightly on the inside. Watching Fili and Kili join Dwalin and Balin in the dining room, she whispered to herself, "We should have made tea for more than three. Now I fear we shall have no food left."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please answer the question at the top of this chapter.


	3. To Be A Took

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More is revealed about Mero’s father.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wowowow did I rewrite this too many times. Not a hundred percent with it because I feel like the plot is moving too slowly but it is necessary.

To be a Took meant many things, not all of them important but all of them delivered with a slight degree of impertinence. The inherited audaciousness of the family and their incalculable wealth simultaneously put them a step above every other hobbit and several steps below. As is so often common with a family that has too many children to keep track of (for some this is three, for other more competent families this number can range from five to ten, and in the case of the Took’s this is twelve children and copious amounts of grandchildren) some members are left to do as they please with little to no supervision. This, more often than not, creates an entirely unapproved of reputation. In the matter of the Tooks, it further solidified what inhabitants of the Shire had known quite some years - they were the least hobbit-like hobbits within their borders. 

It meant something very different to be a Baggins.

However, despite their rambunctious personalities and their uncanny ability to disappear only to resurface after several months, the Tooks were still hobbits at heart, and so knew how to behave in certain company.  Any self-respecting hobbit (and the Tooks were self-respecting, even if it was in an entirely different way to most others) knew that when in a stranger's house there are rules that needed to be followed. One does not enter the home without invitation, nor do they help themselves to anything in the pantry nor touch anything they don't have explicit permission to touch. These rules, though bent by many friends and families, were abided by anyone who had ever spent long enough in the Shire to know that hobbits are exceptionally private creatures.

It was obvious that the dwarves weren't even aware the Shire existed until they stumbled into its borders earlier that day. Like children that had yet been taught their proper manners they could not discern that  _excuse me_ meant  _stop that at once,_ or that  _if you don't mind_ usually means  _do as I say or so help me._ Within moments of entering Bag End, Fili and Kili had picked up the dining room table and moved it into the large section of the hallway just before it. Sweet Bilbo was trying to find a way to politely tell the dwarves to stop touching his things and get out of his house. 

The doorbell rang out again, startling Bilbo into a shout. "No, no, there's nobody home!" 

Mero watched, startled as her level-headed cousin - level-headed by all hobbit's standards, not just Took standards -  practically stomped through his house to the front door. She followed, if not only to make sure he didn't have a meltdown then because curiosity gripped her again. Gandalf this time, she thought with little hope, ready to apologise and gift us something nice to make up for the commotion. 

"Go away and bother somebody else," Bilbo continued, pushing a pile of dwarf-belongings out of his way. Mero almost stopped to investigate the silver glint she saw but her sensibility warned her to keep close to Bilbo. "There are far too many dwarves in my dining room as it is."

"They've actually moved to the hall," Mero observed, looking behind her. "Something curious about others and the room they will need."

"If this - if this is some blockhead's idea of a joke," shouted Bilbo, his stress rising with every step he took towards the round door. Had Mero known that Gandalf would not appear at their door at four on the dot, made polite chit-chat then left at the most two hours later with well wishes and promises to come again, she shouldn't have thought she would invite him. Perhaps tea meant something different to wizards, or maybe Gandalf was bored and needed amusement. He had said so the day before. "I can only say, it is in very poor taste."

And the door was ripped open with a force it had never seen before, reminding Mero suddenly that Bilbo had as much Took in him as she did, a frightful thought. Mero could not dwell on it for more than a moment, though, because a pile of dwarves fell very abruptly on the floor at their feet. 

Taking a surprised step back, Mero gripped Bilbo’s forearm. She counted eight dwarves (afterwards she wondered how ever she managed to stay so calm) all piled up on top of each other and groaning and moaning. It could be amusing were she not so perturbed by the events unfolding around her. 

“Oh,” she said, blinking rapidly as the dwarves struggled to get to their feet. Against her better judgement - and most definitely against what Bilbo wanted her to do at that moment - she offered her hand to the nearest dwarf. “Take my hand, you may catch a cold if you spend too much time on the ground. The pebble in the flower patch knows that a nasty cough has been going around.”

The phrase startled the dwarf into taking her hand, allowing her to keep his balance as he hauled himself up with a perplexed look. Mero’s father had been full of curious sayings, many of which Mero herself used in his absence. The other hobbits had learnt what most of them meant and often left Mero alone to her strange talk. It somewhat pleased her to see that the dwarf would react to them with something other than disdain. 

“Nori, at your service,” the dwarf said, sweeping into a bow. She was unsure of if she should bow as well, for she had not bowed once in her short life, so just nodded her head in response. 

”Mero, at yours,” she replied, moving to assist the other dwarves, not liking how they regarded her with unabashed curiosity. It was rare in the Shire for someone not to know her entire life story, so the scrutiny of someone who did not even know her name made her mightily uncomfortable. She busied herself with assisting them to distract from the uneasiness growing in her stomach. It wasn’t long before she had a pile of dwarven belongings bundled in her arms, ranging from swords to hoods to curious instruments. For the first time that warm evening Mero wondered if it was entirely wise to allow these people into their peaceful home - they were not hobbits, after all, and one always has to be cautious when dealing with other races, especially dwarves. 

She spent longer out by the door than she should have. It was impolite not to interact with her guests, but there was something about them that unnerved her. It was probably best that she pretend to be busy putting away their things in order to regain her earlier comfort than to stand uncomfortably among them. Her father had always said there was no shame in taking some time to herself even when duty called her to do otherwise. He had always been wise like that, not in the way of an average hobbit or even a Took, but in a way that was uniquely his. Mero hoped she would take after him in that respect.

Mero was incredibly like her father. She took after him in looks (at least she assumed she did, for everyone always made mention of how similar they looked) and Belladonna had often remarked that they acted in similar ways. It was often said with a sigh in between lectures, and afterwards, she would curse her older brother for being as he was. Young Mero could never quite grasp that her aunt meant it as anything but a compliment. Like so many other hobbit children, her father was the centre of her universe, though he was there for such a short time. He lived just long enough to instil a sense of adventure in her and a headstrong loyalty to him and his favourite sibling and by extension Bilbo and his father Bungo. 

It is this thought that propels Mero into the makeshift dining room, determined to engage one of the dwarves in conversations of their home and life. 

She bumped into Bilbo before she could make it to where the dwarves were sitting eating. At least, she thought they were eating, though the noise of laughter and the view of flying food might suggest otherwise. Her sweet cousin was quite gobsmacked, rocking backwards and forwards like he may say something to the dwarves but was thinking better of it. It took her just a moment to realise they had cleared out Bilbo's main pantry, leaving the hobbit to stare dismally at the crumbs left on the shelves.

Mero could not help herself. She laughed heartily, in the way that only Mero did. It was a warming laugh, bouncing off the walls and casting a glow over her and Bilbo like it had when she was young. It reached out and hugged him, wrapping him in the childlike bursts of giggles, pulling his thoughts away from the dwarves and focusing them on the hilarity of the situation. It all at once made Bilbo want to join her and stomp his feet to get her to stop. But the light airy sound soon won out, bringing him to chuckle with her. 

"Oh, Bilbo," she said, no longer laughing but her voice laced with amusement. The corners of her eyes were crinkled into the smile that always brought joy to him, reminding him that not everything had to be so serious. "A pantry that is without food signals a life that should soon want not."

"Another of your father's sayings?" Bilbo asked, not needing Mero to answer. He knew she delighted in speaking of her late father so at every chance he got he allowed the conversation to turn to him. 

"Who else would say such wonderful things, dear cousin."  

“You say sufficiently mad things," Bilbo reminded her. She laughed again. this one shorter and more self-mocking. 

"I wager you shall stand out here and stare forlornly at your foodless shelves instead of joining in the merrymaking," Mero said, placing a hand on Bilbo's shoulder. When Bilbo made no reply, she continued. "I am uncertain as to their reasons for being here, Bilbo, but I do intend to find out."

"You can find out all you want," Bilbo said, his words harsh with stress. "I shan't be joining you."

Mero tilted her head at him. For more than a moment, Bilbo thinks he has upset his cousin, an occasion he desperately tries to avoid. But then, she is smiling again, touching his shoulder and looking at the dwaves that descended on them. She looks like Bilbo’s mother when she is deep in thought.

”I think they’re going on an adventure, Bilbo,” she said, quiet now. Bilbo observed the dwarves as well, a strange something stirring in the pit of his stomach. Mero felt it too, then, the restlessness of these foreigners. 

”You know, I think you might be right.”


End file.
